Do I Look Akatsuki?
by maggiepollitt
Summary: Too small a thing to reduce it to a summary.


Do I Look Akatsuki?

Author: maggiepollitt

Rating: G (it's NOT a yaoi, honestly)

Summary: Too small a thing to reduce it to a summary.

Disclaimer: Those who think I'm Kishimoto Masashi make the biggest mistake ever. I'm not him otherwise I'd have known it, now wouldn't I?

Author's Note: If you notice any mistakes let me know please. I've a problem with punctuation as I stick to the Russian rules (which as I've just realized is a stupid thing to do). And I blame OpenOffice thesaurus for the spelling mistakes.

A/N 2. I do believe it's a humour. Those who believe otherwise are welcome to discussion.

A/N 3. Let's just assume Deidara has (had) an unpleasant voice. I know, know (weeps) He was almost perfect, but, come to think of it from Itachi's or Sasori's point of view he could have been quite irritable.

''Kakuzu-san, can you spare me some nailwear?'' Deidara asked, radiating politeness.

Kakuzu looked up from his Forbs.

"Economy strategies are all but the most important ones for every organisation. Being in charge requires great skill and an ability to dispose the materials. As a member of an organization you are supposed to understand and appreciate..."

"Can I have my nailwear?"

"... the wise strategies of someone who is more accustomed to the situations concerning..."

"If I explode him will he shut up?" Deidara wondered not a hint of humour implied.

Sasori surely didn't condescend to answering that misery of a question. He was just watching the drama unfold as Kakuzu went on praising his own finance genius, Deidara was far too busy to actually listen to him as he was making a bird to send it to Kakuzu.

"He gave the last two to Uchiha-san," Zetsu explained rather lazily to Sasori. The latter didn't show any signs of enthusiasm either. As far as he knew Deidara...

"Your economy is not an art," Deidara stated triumphantly. "The art..."

"Can you actually walk him somewhere else, Sasori-sama?" Zetsu asked casually, making a point to get as far from Deidara as possible. "I don't like his bangs right after I've had my breakfast."

"You've a fetish for his hair?" Sasori shrugged. " I prefer it the way it is. "

Zetsu looked as if somebody had hit him hard with something really heavy.

"Deidara!" Sasori went on melancholically. " Go see Uchiha-san."

"He said he'd like to see me?" the blond seemed positively animated.

"No, but if you're lucky enough, he'll share some of his nailwear with you."

"Why don't we try french manicure instead? It would be classy. And elegant. And I happen to have some nice shade of beige, so..."

"Tell that our Leader when you get to see him," Sasori advised watching Zetsu walk away.

Itachi seemed totally absorbed in his book. Kisame tried to pretend he was peering into the wall behind Itachi and surely not into Itachi who looked as if he had been lost for the whole world.

"That brother of yours... " Kisame began tentatively, having learnt that Itachi usually reacted to the mentions of Sasuke.

"Hn," Itachi grunted.

"He's so like you. But can he really obtain Mangekyo Sharingan?

"Hn, " Itachi agreed willingly.

"What I'm trying to say, Itachi-san...

"Hn," Itachi snapped.

"If you actually look at it..."

"Kisame, " Itachi called softly.

"Yes, Itachi-sun?"

"I'm reading. "

"You have to take care of your sight, Itachi-sun," Kisame began his voice pulsating with concern. Itachi made one more grunt and Kisame went on:

"Although, it is obvious you do have a reason to read the 'Gardenning for dummies'. "

Itachi inspected his partner's face. Not a shadow of a smile.

"It is only a cover, " Itachi explained. It's not that he felt like he had to. He had a solid reputation of a genius, for one thing, and Akatsuki members seemed to totally lack a sense of humour, for another, so no one would be able to taunt him. As if someone would dare.

Itachi didn't like to be disturbed while reading. People have right to have their little quirks, now do they? Itachi could hardly bear Kisame who was gazing at him so intently and with such a worship written all over his face that it made Itachi slightly uncomfortable. Then something made a loud thumping sound, as if indicating someone's intention to enter the room. Itachi didn't want to see anyone. Not even Deidara. Please, not him, the loudest one!

"How are you doing Itachi-sun?" the loudest one yelled. Itachi almost jumped up.

"Had been fine, " Itachi answered trying to sound so that Deidara would be able to get a hint.

"So had I, " Deidara informed him.

"And then we met, " Itachi went on suggestively.

"And this means, " Deidara seemed to have caught on to the intonation.

"Yes? " Itachi murmured hopefully.

"That the morning is absolutely charming, " Deidara concluded beaming. -"I'm so lucky to have stumbled upon you, Itachi-san."

"Yeah, in my own room, " Itachi grumbled.

"Isn't it Kisame-san's?"

"Well, it appears that we're sharing the room as well as you and Sasori-sama do, " Kisame explained kindly with frightening willingness.

"Although I'd completely understand If you two actually didn't, " Itachi hissed whispering something about 'locked closet' and ' leaving outside'.

"So, - Deidara brought himself closer to Itachi. Itachi blinked and moved away. - soooo.."

Deidara wasn't the one to beat about the bush. But when a situation involved an Uchiha one just couldn't stick to their normal behaviour. So, the blond had finally run out of his courtesy and diplomacy supply without even touching upon the subject in question.

"Your nails, Itachi-sun, -"Deidara shrieked. The Uchiha genius failed to stay calm. He jumped up muttering curses.

"What are they – burning? "Itachi inquired in a low eerie voice.

"They're just beautiful! - Deidara screeched. Itachi hid his hands behind his back. He could be a maniac very well, but ultra-loud nail-obsessed nin seemed a great threat.

"What nailwear do you use, Itachi-sun? " Deidara asked pleadingly.

Itachi shifted from the bed, bent to the nightstand and after a ten-minutes search sat bolt upright.

"Here, "he exhaled. "Take it."

"You want me to be beautiful too? " Deidara yelled in bewilderment.

"Will you excuse me now? " Itachi asked wryly.

"Do you want to see my nails when I'm done?"

"I might not be ready to give my full attention to that sight. When I feel I'm ready I'll let you know."

After the door had been closed Itachi went back to his book. But before that he'd made sure to tell Kisame:

"If he comes back, kill him. Or at least make him shut up."

"Er.. how?"

"Well, you could have ripped his tongue out of his mouths – all of them. Or you could have kissed him. Or you could have talked him to death. The world is your oyster, Kisame. What do you do to oysters?"

"I'm against consuming the gifts of the sea," Kisame confessed timidly, blushing charmingly (it would've looked charming had he not been cerulean, that is) "People shouldn't be so cruel."

"Then kill him."

"Sure."

Deidara came up to the mirror with his fingers spread, nails radiating violet glow.

"Do I look Akatsuki?" he addressed the mirror.

"You look like a I-can't-use-a-nailwear guy," Sasori replied.

"You're jealous, Sasori-sama, hmm?"

"You're pathetic."

"You would have never come to Itachi to ask him for this, hmm."

"Because normally idiots are extremely lucky and I'm no such."

"Neither am I, " Deidara snapped hastily. He considered saying that only idiot could turn himself into a wooden doll, but the Uchiha's Death Glare had been more than enough for him.

"I do think that this shade of beige..."

"I've got to go, Deidara. Tell your ideas to the Uchiha, he'll tell me later if there's anything interesting."

"So, Itachi-sun, if Leader-sama doesn't seem to listen to me, I'll tell you, hmm."

"I've a sudden urge to go check on my foolish little brother. He is talkative and obsessive but I've got used to him, for heaven's sake!!!!!"

"Itachi-sun, you've forgotten your gardening book, hmm! _**the sound of cover unfolded**_ Your Bridget Jones Diary?!? Itachi-sun, you _might_ even like my idea, wait, I'm coming!"

Review please and let me know about the mistakes.


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